


five times annie thought something was gonna happen between them and one time she didn’t

by ratherbefree



Series: CommunityAW17 [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, that sure is a long title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbefree/pseuds/ratherbefree
Summary: He’d clutched at her waist, her back, and it felt like the first human contact she’d had in years. Felt like the first sip of cold lemonade before a long, hot summer. Felt like the gasp of missing a step when descending a staircase in the dark of night.





	1. one: summer 2010

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be posted during community appreciation week, but it got away from me

_yes!!! i’d love that!_

_yeah!! sounds fun!!!!!!_

_yep! it’ll be nice to catch up!_

_sounds great! i’ve missed you s_

Annie stops typing in the middle of the draft, and deletes it just as quickly as she has the rest. _God._ It’s not even been five minutes since she received his text, but already she’s gone over how to respond at least half a dozen times. Every time, she’s found something wrong with the words immediately - usually that they sound too clingy, or invested. 

That’s not what she’s trying to go for - she wants to seem cool and detached. Relaxed. Like Britta…but maybe not? 

He’d kissed her after she’d proclaimed she wanted to _live in the moment._ That would suggest that there was something about that - her determination to leave her old self behind, to experience life as it happened instead of constantly planning for the next thing - that was attractive to him. 

Then again, she’d explained at the time that for her, living in the moment meant…well, it meant staying in the same place she had just tried to escape. Which she guesses is contradictory. 

The problem is that she doesn’t actually know what he wants. She can’t tell if a clingier reply would charm or repel him - or if a distant message would intrigue or disinterest him. 

_coffee sounds great_

She reads it over five times before she sends it. 

* * *

He ends up picking her up at her apartment. Not just waiting outside in the car, but walking all the way up  - _literally_ walking; the elevator’s been broken for the past two weeks, in the heat as well. 

And when she opens the door, she tries not to think about the way that there’s something romantic about the gesture. Because there he is, smiling bashfully and taking a moment before glancing up to meet her eyes and _he walked all the way up and surely he wouldn’t just do that for a friend._ It’s not a friendly action. Like, this is the type of thing that happens in the movies she’d never admit she watches. 

He widens his eyes when he takes in the apartment. It’s not much, she knows that - but suddenly, with Jeff Winger standing in it, it looks a whole lot less cozy and a lot more cramped. Self-consciousness creeps in and floods through her, and she finds herself already offering up an excuse. “It was all I could afford, after…you know.” 

Shoot, now she’s reminded him of her tragic backstory! That’s definitely _not_ how she wants him to see her - some sort of poor, unfortunate former druggie. She checks quickly for his response, and  - well, he looks kinda uncomfortable, sure, but not patronising. There’s that at least. 

He scratches at the back of his neck and shuffles his feet, and she realises that she hasn’t really said much since he got there. 

“Do you want anything? I have tea, or coffee. I mean,” she adds, “maybe coffee wouldn’t be the best idea, because we’re supposed to be getting coffee, right? So…tea? Or, or, I’m ready to leave, if you are. That’s probably why you came up here, isn’t it?” _Well done,_ she thinks drily, _that wasn’t awkward at all._

“I’m ready to go,” Jeff says, jabbing his thumb back at the door. “If you want.” 

“Right! Yes! Sure!” She tones back her relieved smile, hoping to hit somewhere between _casually polite_ and _friendly warm._ In truth, it’s probably more of a grimace, but at least she’s pretty sure she doesn’t look like a deranged serial killer or anything. “Um, I’ll just quickly grab my purse.” 

Not for the first time, she wishes there was some sort of barrier between her bedroom and living area. Her purse is lying on the floor next to the dresser, and the weight of his gaze boring into her makes her stumble, like she’s forgotten how to walk, and maybe she has, because all she can think about is him. But she feels the absence of his stare when she bend over, anyway, and sure enough, when she turns back, he seems very interested in the peeling paint of the wall adjacent to the doorway. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

She nods.

As they leave, he offers her his arm and seems surprised when she takes it, like he hadn’t even realised he’d done it, like it was just the natural thing to do. Annie thinks it’s a good sign. 

* * *

Of course, she’s not so naïve as to assume from just that one interaction how their conversation is going to go. There’s other things, too: he holds open the car door for her, lets her fiddle with the stations as they drive, doesn’t say a word when she sings along to the cheesy boyband song on the radio, asks which cafe she’d rather go to, and pays for her drink (caramel frappuccino, extra whipped cream). 

They sit down in a little table next to the window and the sun shines through so she has to squint to see him properly. Despite this, she doesn’t miss the way he looks at her - soft, warm, but just a little bit far away. 

She wants to ask what he’s thinking. 

But she’s not sure if it’s her place, and he ducks his head and sips from his black coffee anyway and doesn’t give her a whole lot of time to process what just happened. Which she probably shouldn’t be surprised by. 

So they sit in silence and she doesn’t push, even though she knows there’s something on his mind. He’s got that look; the one he usually gets right before ramping up to a big Winger Speech, and honestly she has no clue what it is he’s about to say but it’s definitely important, so she doesn’t break the focus. 

Of course, he pipes up a moment later. 

“How’s your summer been?” 

It’s. Well, it’s not what she was expecting him to say, but it beats not saying anything at all. She tells him about the mentor program she’s been volunteering for, the part-time job she found working at the grocers, and the weekly movie nights with Troy and Abed, hosted at Pierce’s mansion. 

“Shirley comes round sometimes, too.” She explains, fiddling with her straw. “You know, when she’s not busy with her kids. And Britta’s stopped by a couple times, but I think she’s in Denver right now.” 

He nods like it’s information he knew already, and Annie immediately regrets mentioning Britta in the first place. Why, why would she remind him of her when they’re supposed to be having a nice time together? 

Jeff studies the table for a moment, brow furrowed, as if he’s psyching himself up for something. Sure enough, when he glances back up, there’s a kind of resigned weariness to his expression. 

“I just, I felt like after everything that…happened, we should probably talk.” 

She feels her heart rate pick up. Until now, this very moment, she had almost managed to convince herself that the kiss didn’t really happen; or that it did, but she’d made it into a bigger deal in her head than it was in reality. 

But hearing Jeff refer to it - however vaguely - brings the memories flooding back. The way he’d clutched at her waist, her back, and it felt like the first human contact she’d had in years. Felt like the first sip of cold lemonade before a long, hot summer. Felt like the gasp of missing a step when descending a staircase in the dark of night. 

It felt like everything. 

So she nods. Not manically, but quickly. Hastily. 

“You know, as nice as it was,” he coughs like he hadn’t meant to say it. Or maybe he had, but it came out wrong. (Annie can definitely relate.) “I just think that it would be -  a bad idea. If our friends found out.” 

“Of course.” She replies, immediately. He doesn’t really think so little of her, does he? Doesn’t just presume that as soon as it happened, she’d go running off to tell their friends all about it? 

And she must sound convincing, because he relaxes a little. But still leans back, away from her. Distant. “Good. I mean, I didn’t think you had. I just.” He pauses, turns his next words over in his head, and clasps his hands on the table. 

Annie can’t help her glance down at them. 

His fingers twitch. “When we all go back to Greendale,” he starts, slowly. “We should be discrete about it.” The quirk of his eyebrows asks her silently if she understands - something he’d never say, because he knows how patronising it would seem. 

She nods anyway. 

Needless to say that by the end of the day, she can’t stop going over his words in her mind - and she’s even more confused than she was before their little meeting. 


	2. two: conspiracy theories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s dark and late at night and it’s been a long day and that’s probably why this is all affecting her so much. She thinks about Greendale, about walking to class or sitting in the study room and wonders if there’s something about the night and the late hour that’s making him more bold, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which after a day of solving and creating elaborate conspiracy theories, annie overanalyses some texts

“You realise you’re gonna need to tidy all of this up, right?” Annie asks, after finally locating the ringleaders. Normally she tries not to chase them up like this, tries to let them make their own decisions instead of pestering them about it, but she’d needed a distraction and no one can distract her quite as effectively as Troy and Abed can. 

The boys share a look, then simultaneously turn back to her and nod. 

“It’s probably better to start now,” Abed reasons. “We’ve already had a couple instances of thievery with Leonard, and I’d rather not risk any more crimes being committed. We should return the blankets to their rightful owners.” 

“Please tell me you kept some sort of record of who the blankets belong to?” She already knows the answer, but it’s nice to have the brief second’s worth of hope before either of them reply. 

“Nope!” Troy says gleefully. “Guess we’re gonna have to round up all the people living on our floor and ask them.” 

“Ooh! Interrogation? Interroga-“ 

“ _No,”_ Annie cuts in firmly, in an attempt to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand. At their crestfallen looks, she pleads, “can’t we just ask people instead?” 

“That’s nowhere near as fun,” Abed refutes, shaking his head, like _she’s_ the one who’s being unreasonable. Beside him, Troy nods in support. 

“How about…” she thinks back to the anger management techniques in the article she recently read, “how about, a _short_ interrogation for each person instead? It’s already-“ she checks her watch and barely masks a grimace. “9 pm.” This time on a normal school night, she’d be starting to unwind, maybe read a chapter of a book. 

Troy and Abed turn to each other, seemingly having a silent conversation, which with dizzying speed turns into a mimed argument before resolving itself within a matter of seconds. 

“Fine,” Troy responds, shortly. 

* * *

She finally leaves nearly 3 hours later. 

By the time she gets home, it’s just before midnight, and she barely has the energy to get ready for bed. While she’s brushing her teeth, she hears her phone chime on the nightstand and groans, trying to mentally prepare herself for the tv show crackpot theory or movie screening Abed has invited her to, or the faux philosophical thought that Britta has on her mind, or a text from Pierce asking her to teach him how to use email for the hundredth time. 

So she purposefully ignores opening the message for a little longer than necessary, fixing a glass of water and climbing into bed before eventually reading it. 

But it’s not from any of the culprits she initially suspected, and she feels kinda guilty for not opening it for so long. 

> _troy just said you helped him and abed tidy up. are you okay? are you even home yet?_

She taps back a message quickly, explaining what happened, thinking that since it’s late, and the original message was sent nearly a half hour ago, he’ll probably respond in the morning. 

But he doesn’t; the screen lights up again right before she goes to place it down. 

> _…was there character impersonations involved?_

Annie smiles wryly to herself. Their friends really are awfully predictable. She types, _yup._

> _i’m so sorry_
> 
> _you should have found me, i could’ve helped_

She frowns; it isn’t like him to offer to assist in anything that doesn’t benefit him directly. _Pfft, yeah right,_ is her eloquent reply. 

He responds that she’s probably right, then texts back again a couple seconds later mentioning the fact that it’s late. They should probably both get some sleep, he says, and she knows he’s correct but some desperate part of her just doesn’t want the conversation to end, and she can’t even articulate exactly _why._

Maybe it’s because ever since the transfer dance they haven’t really had much time alone together. She can understand his reasons why - she misunderstood, came on too strong at the beginning of the year and made things awkward. She’d thought they were past that after the first few day’s events, but apparently not. She’d even convinced herself it was for the best, ‘cause the pesky, annoying crush she’d had on him always seemed to fizzle between them when they spoke like a physical, visible barrier to any sort of meaningful conversation. When they have spoken, it’s been light and jokey, maybe overcompensating. 

Until today. And perhaps that’s why she really wants to prolong this short amount of time that they’re able to speak (okay, text) without awkwardness or long lapses of silence that inevitably break into stuttered laughter when they both realise it’s went on for too long. 

So she sets her mind, and does something impulsive, and messages, _today was fun, right? crazy, but fun._

It takes a while before he replies, and she places her phone face down on the nightstand, covering her face with her hands and having to physically restrain herself from calling him and trying to take it back somehow. ‘Cause, what if he reads into it, and what if he finds something there that he doesn’t want to see, and what if that makes things worse between them, and puts them right back to how it was on the first day of the school year? 

The phone buzzes. She picks it up immediately. 

> _yeah. it was nice to hang out again_

There’s a tightening in her stomach and she gives a sharp intake of breath. It’s dark. It’s dark and late at night and it’s been a long day and that’s probably why this is all affecting her so much. She thinks about Greendale, about walking to class or sitting in the study room and wonders if he’d say the same sort of thing then, or if there’s something about the night and the late hour that’s making him more bold, too. 

Maybe. 

She presses her lips together and taps back, _we should hang out more often._

 _…_ And waits forty five minutes for a response that doesn’t come. 


	3. three: timelines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie goes to the recycling centre. Set after Remedial Chaos Theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking around! unfortunately the next chapter probably won't be up until the beginning of july due to the holiday. this one's a little longer to make up for it!

After Shirley leaves to put her boys to bed, Britta soon follows, giving the excuse that her cats don’t like to be alone for long periods of time and that Walter needs his evening medication.   

The party is dwindling down by then and the pizza is long gone. The boxes lie in the corner next to the trash, and when Annie asks, Troy says that they’ll be put into the ‘compost heap’ once everyone is gone. Not particularly liking the sound of that, she offers to take them to the recycling centre up in Riverside, and they agree with little cause for persuasion. 

So she ends up getting ready to leave a little earlier than she expected to. But it’s still sort of late, she rationalises, and there’s a test in Political Science she really should revise for the next day, so she figures it’ll be alright if she checks out before the party is officially over. Besides, it’s just the guys left, and as much as she loves them she worries about the direction the gathering might go in once they’re left without the matronly and judging eyes of Shirley and Britta respectively. 

She leans past Troy to grab her purse, unnoticed due to the heated discussion going on across the table. Abed and Jeff, for once, arguing over whether _Firefly_ was deserving of cancellation. Troy, watching on. Pierce…well, adding to the conversation, but not by much. From his remarks he appears to know even less about the series than Annie does, and for the most part the boys are tuning him out. Wisely, she thinks, making a mental note to try and bring up his recent attention-seeking tactics with Jeff. 

As she’s fumbling with the zipper on her purse, the latter shuts his hand in mid-air, silencing Abed, and turns. “Leaving already?” 

“Yeah, I should get home. I have that test on Monday, remember?” 

He considers this with the usual wry look of someone who doesn’t understand her impulse of beginning revision a couple days in advance but understands that it’s something that is important to her. He seems ready to return to the argument, a rebuff to Abed’s _“but a second season would have compelled more people to watch complex sci-fi series, like Inspector Spacetime…”_ already on his tongue, but instead a thought seems to strike him. “I didn’t see your car when I parked, though.” 

“Britta picked me up.” Which, _no,_ never again. Out of all the situations in which she’s thought she’s going to die at Britta’s hands (of which there has been comfortingly few) that short journey was definitely at least the third most probable. Perhaps even second. She went round a corner so fast she saw her life flash by. “I’m gonna catch the bus, it stops right outside my building.” 

He frowns again, “At this time?” 

“Yes.”

“It’s late.” 

If it were possible to roll one’s eyes out of their sockets, she would have done so. Besides, it’s not late at all, barely 10 - and it even contradicts his previous question. Sometimes, she thinks he just makes up all these problems that aren’t even really there. It doesn’t make sense.

“It’s,” she checks her watch for accuracy. “10:04.” 

“I can drive you home.” 

“I’m fine,” she replies, maybe a little too abruptly. But see - well, it’s Jeff, right? Not just Jeff Winger, friend-and-study-group-member, but _Jeff_ , like, complicated-with-an-almost-history Jeff. It’s only been a week since Model UN, and _“can’t we?”_ , and- and jeez, she’s blushing. She’s only _thinking_ about Jeff and she’s blushing. 

“It’s no trouble.” 

Maybe now would be a good time to pull the _‘I’m armed for protection and know how to use it’_ card. But before she can say anything, Troy cuts in. “You know,” he looks between her and Jeff before shooting Annie an apologetic look, “your neighbourhood _is_ pretty sketchy. Maybe it would be better if you got a lift back, instead.” 

Jeff nods, gesturing to his back-up. “See?” 

“I’m stopping by the recycle centre, anyway.” She jabs a thumb at the pizza boxes, left next to the door. “And that’s probably out of your way, right?” 

“Maybe,” he concedes, “but it’s not like I can’t afford to get home a little later. I don’t have a test on Monday, I don’t have to study like crazy tomorrow.” 

It doesn’t seem like there’s a whole lot more she could say to convince him out of the notion. Jeff might be notoriously lazy, but when he sets his mind to something - especially something like this, something that’ll make him feel…noble, or whatever - he’s not likely to back down. 

And it’s not as though she particularly _wants_ to take the bus. At best, it’ll be grimy and smell of pot; at worst, full of people she won’t quite want to associate with. Her stubborn belief that braving _that_ would somehow be better than carpooling with Jeff is perhaps starting to fade, a little. 

So she sighs, checks. “You’re sure?” 

He’s already up and out the chair, nodding in a way that is both dismissive and determined. 

This is happening, she guesses. It won’t be so bad. So what if they haven’t hung out, alone, since their not-quite-almost kiss in the study room? She’s kissed Abed before, and they hung out plenty the next summer. It’s not that weird. 

Then again, that was Abed, and this is Jeff, and she can’t really convince herself that they’re in the same category in her mind. 

Then again, if they truly are as good friends as she likes to think, this shouldn’t be a big deal… Then again, there is something about them being alone together that seems to change things. Then again-

“Do you need a plastic bag?” 

“What?” 

Troy points to the cabinet under the sink. “For the boxes.” 

Boxes…right. There’s only a few of them, but she can’t imagine Jeff would take too kindly to sitting them on one of his car seats. Leftover crumbs and grease, all that. “Yes, thanks.” 

“Just make sure you bring it back,” Abed calls over. “We’re only beginning our collection, and we can’t afford to lose one yet.” 

“Collection?” Jeff asks, wearily. 

The boys share a look. “Duh. We’re homeowners now, Jeff. Adults. That’s what we _do.”_

He goes as if to argue this point, but concedes, tilting his head to the side as if it’s a realisation he’s only just came to himself. “Huh.” 

“Come on,” Annie reminds him, shovelling the boxes into the bag and making her way to the door. 

“Right, yeah.” He follows, turning back right before he reaches the doorway, “uh. Thanks for having us over. Even if it was under false pretences.” 

“Hey, you said yourself the _boobs and billiards club_ was too good to be true.” Abed points out. 

Well, she hadn’t known about _that._ Jeff shoves his hands in his pockets and glances down, presumably to hide a grimace. 

Choosing to ignore that conversation, Annie waves with her free hand. “Thanks for everything.” 

“You should come over after classes on Monday,” Troy offers, “if you want to talk more about moving in.” 

“Definitely.” She makes a mental note to add it to her planner as soon as she gets home. (Which, she knows, probably defeats the purpose of having a physical planner anyway.) 

Goodbyes are exchanged (and thankfully not drawn out as much as they could have been, due in large part to Jeff, who seemed eager to leave) and it’s only five minutes before Annie is climbing into the passenger seat of the Lexus. 

“You can put them in the back, if you want.” 

It takes a moment for her to realise he’s talking about the box-filled plastic bag she has sitting on her lap. She nods her thanks and carefully tucks them away behind her seat, moving back to do up her seatbelt before the car starts up. 

“It’s kinda chilly,” she remarks after a while, purely to make conversation. It doesn’t hit her until approximately 2 seconds after the words are out her mouth that they could, possibly and by someone intensely paranoid about the exact scenario, be construed as flirting, but Jeff doesn’t react much, so she guesses it’s alright. 

The heater clicks on. It’s only on low, just the barest tinge of warmth, but it’s enough to make her feel a little more comfortable. 

“Riverside, right?” 

“Hm?” 

“The recycle centre. Riverside.” 

“Oh, yeah.” She pushes a couple strands of hair that had broke free back behind her ear, and assumes that he’s done talking. Maybe he’s tired, or maybe he’s starting to remember that it’s never really a good thing for them to be alone together. 

But, “So, you’re moving in with Troy and Abed?” 

She shrugs, watching the road, the streetlights bleed past. “I’m not sure yet. It’d be nice, though. To get out of my neighbourhood, yeah, but also just to move in with friends.” 

He nods, takes a right. “Is your neighbourhood really that bad?” 

“Mm,” it’s hard to say, really, now that she’s been living there for the past 2 years. “It’s not the best place to live,” she settles for. “It was all I could afford at the time, though.” 

Left. 

“Makes sense.” 

Annie expects him to probe further, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s finally seeing her as an adult who is capable of taking care of herself, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough. “Do you think there’s enough room for them to convert the bunkbed into a triple bunk?” 

“Ha.” She rolls her eyes, but truth be told it’s something that ran through her mind, as well. “They probably have another bedroom, right? I wish I’d paid more attention when I was there.” 

“Oh, I’m sure there’ll be another room that technically constitutes as a bedroom,” he takes the next left again, “but knowing them, it’ll have already been turned into a playroom at best, petting zoo at worst. Risky move.” 

She’ll give him that. “I suppose.” 

They stop at the lights, during which he asks whether it’ll be easier to reach the centre by going straight on, or by taking the next right. She dictates, and he drives. 

“That’s it,” he says, probably intending for it to seem more like a question. 

She answers it anyway, “yeah. I’ll just grab the boxes.” 

He gets out the car at the same time she does, even though there’s no real reason to. Watches her carry the bag around the car, until-

“Shoot,” she mutters, bending down to pick up one of the boxes that managed to slide out the horizontally-held bag. 

“I’ll get it,” Jeff offers, grabbing it before she does. 

Annie gives him what she hopes is a grateful, yet friendly teasing, look. 

“I can walk home,” she says, once the boxes are successfully slipped through into the metal containers. “I’m only a few blocks away, you know.” 

“I know,” he replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t speak up again for a moment, so together they walk back to his car. When they’re in, instead of driving, he turns in his seat. “I know things have been sort of weird since the whole Model UN thing,” he begins, and god, she can feel the hints of panic beginning to creep along the lining of her stomach. “But, is it that difficult to be alone with me?” 

Oh. _Oh._ It’s not something she expected him to pick up on, honestly. She figured it’d go over his head, at best; or he’d realise but choose to ignore it until things went back to normal. 

She doesn’t even know how to respond to that. Like, a simple _yes_ or _no_ won’t cut it, right? Then again, she can’t exactly spill everything that’s been on her mind since the start of the year to him. It would be strange and probably unwelcome and definitely ruin whatever weird, malformed relationship they already have. 

“That’s not it,” she settles for. To elaborate: “I mean, I’m not, like. Embarrassed, or whatever. It was weird.” Adds, “for both of us.” 

“I made it weird.” 

She doesn’t argue. Not because she can’t think of any good arguments - she can; all of them start with the fact that if it wasn’t for her insistence that he help her in the first place, none of that would have happened - but she thinks that they probably wouldn’t do much good right now. 

“It’s just, I care about you a lot, okay?” He carries the bewildered expression of someone who realises they’re probably saying too much. “Even if I show it in…in weird ways.” 

“Like demanding to drive me home even though after the amount of time we’ve spent stopped here it would’ve been quicker for me if I had just gotten the bus instead?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “like that.” But then turns serious again, the light from the streetlights illuminating only parts of his face. He looks like a kid at a campsite, or a kid at a sleepover who’s about to admit too much. He seems to know this, too. This probably is the type of conversation that can _only_ be held in a parked car, tucked safely away from the loud highway or the prying eyes of suburbia. “You’re really important to me.” 

And there it is, dammit, he locks eyes with her, and it’s like everything that she’s been repressing for the past week just starts up all over again, like a thousand stars are bursting right behind her ribs, like her heart’s been filled with air, like electricity hums beneath the skin of her fingertips. If this were a movie, she thinks she’d touch his face, say the same thing back to him. 

He licks his lips. Subtle. If she weren’t completely honed in on his mouth, she probably wouldn’t have caught it. 

Well, it’s dark, and the warning bells sounding are only in her head, so it’s relatively quiet, at least, none of their friends are around to watch and reprimand. Well, they’re sitting close anyway, it wouldn’t be such a big deal if she leaned in, just like that… If she had the time, she’d count his eyelashes, learn everything about him that she can, learn all the things she can’t learn when she’s standing a respectable, friendly distance away, but there’s not enough time, so she moves a little closer and so does he, and it’s ridiculous to think that just a few hours ago they were tucking into greasy pizza and joking around with their friends, because now this is the only thing that matters, the only thing she thinks she’ll remember about tonight, closer again-

It’s not the metallic clang that wrenches them apart, but the much quieter footsteps that follow. He meets her eyes again, but they’re not as clouded now, too sharp. But they don’t move apart until the sound of the engine starting up forces them to reevaluate the situation. Annie reaches for her seatbelt again just as the previously unnoticed car in front starts to pull out. 

“A few blocks away, you said.” He doesn’t look at her, just keeps his eyes trained on the road, even though the streetlights illuminate it enough that he probably doesn’t have to watch so carefully. 

“Yeah,” she confirms, sighs.


	4. four: leaving the couples costumes to the real couples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie drives Jeff home after their misadventure in Pierce's mansion.

He asks her to give him a ride straight home, but doesn’t exactly explain why. There’s a new calmness about him, though - one that definitely _wasn’t_ there before their trip to Pierce’s mansion. Like, maybe he’s finally beginning to accept something that he was struggling with before. 

She sneaks a glance at them when they stop at the lights. The angry light casts a red glow over his face, but it doesn’t change his expression - clear, resolved. Certain. 

That’s not a word she would usually associate with Jeff. Especially since the start of classes. At first, she chalked it up to the fact that it was their last year together - and afterwards, when he finally came clean; his impending early graduation. But she had a suspicion, recently, that that’s not the only reason he’s been acting strangely. 

And it’s not really- 

  _Green._

-it’s not really anything for her to complain about. So maybe he’s been closer to her this year. So it’s been nice. So it means nothing. So…

Their hands brush when he goes to change the radio station at the same time she does. Unlooking, so it’s un _knowing_. 

“Sorry,” she snatches hers back, curls her fingers firmly around the wheel. 

He doesn’t say _it’s okay_ but it’s implied in the way he smiles, crookedly. Probably he just doesn’t want to respond, draw attention to it. There’s a reason _why_ Annie feels she has to apologise and they both know it even if it’s not something they bring up anymore. 

“I can’t stand this crap,” he remarks, fiddling with the dial. It’s some kind of upbeat 80s tune, the kind you’d hear on generic work-out mixes, or radio after 9pm. It’s only 7:30. 

“Me neither,” she replies, and manages a quick smile before she has to look back at the road. 

Static sounds out for a long moment, Jeff curses under his breath. He finally lands on a station that seems to be exclusively playing Halloween songs and horror movie soundtracks, complete with overlaid wind and the occasional scream. 

“This…isn’t much better.” He says, after the first song finishes. 

He sounds so disappointed she has to suppress a giggle. “Well, it’s better than Tears For Fears, or…whatever that last song was.” 

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “That wasn’t Tears For Fears.” 

“I- I don’t know!” She replies, perhaps a little too defensively. “I don’t listen to many…older songs.”

“ _Old_ songs? You wound me, Annie.” 

“Old- _er.”_

He shakes his head and tuts, all self righteous. Annie could definitely tease him a little more - it’s fun, this sort of friendly banter they’ve got going - but there’s other things on her mind, and maybe now that they’ve broken the ice a little he’ll be more receptive to her questions. Now, he probably won’t take her concern the wrong way, like she fears. 

“So, uh,” she starts, when they find themselves stuck in a queue for a while. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” 

“Is everything okay,” she repeats, before realising that his response was probably to ask her to clarify why she’s asking that particular question, rather than a request for her to repeat it. “I mean, you don’t want to go to Vicki’s anymore. I was just wondering if everything’s alright, like, are you not feeling well?” 

“I’m fine,” he answers, and for a minute or so she thinks that’s that. 

“I, uh. I found my dad.” 

“Oh,” she doesn’t know what to say, she feels tingly and tender and uncertain. _What would Britta say,_ she thinks, so she can say the opposite. 

“I mean, it’s just an address and phone number. Not a big deal,” Jeff continues, like he’s sensed how uncomfortable she is. Which isn’t exactly fair. He shouldn’t have to…to reassure her, or whatever. “But I don’t know. Britta…you know how she is. And maybe she has a point, so.” 

“Yeah,” even though she doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. “So - are you gonna call him?” 

He watches the road for a moment, streetlights casting an orange glow across his features every few seconds as they pass. “I think so, yeah.” 

“That’s good,” she says, then adds, “I’m happy for you, you know.” 

He smiles at her and she barely catches it out the corner of her eye, but it’s unmistakable. One of his genuine smiles, like he’s actually touched. “I know. I appreciate it.” 

* * *

When they reach his apartment building, it’s only 8pm but already pretty dark. Of course, Annie expected this to happen - it’s nearly winter, after all - but it’s still a surprise. She wonders how long the others will be staying at the party for, how dark it’ll be when she finally gets home. If she’s lucky, she’ll have time to have some hot tea before bed. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Jeff says, when the car finally slows to a stop. “And uh, sorry, I guess. For not going to the party.” 

“It’s fine,” she replies immediately. Then, realising her reply might seem as though it lacks sincerity, she adds, “this is important to you.” 

“Yeah,” he fiddles with his watch. “I guess it is.” 

“At least our costumes aren’t properly coordinated,” she jokes, watching as he collects his boxing gloves from the back seat. 

“Why?” 

“‘Cause this way, I can go on my own, right? Rather than being one half of a couple’s costume.” 

“Right,” he nods, chuckles. Then, after a moment, “at least I won’t have to ward off the dean’s advances all night.” 

“Yeah,” she replies, “but _someone’s_ gonna have to tell him you’re not going.” 

He flashes her a decidedly unapologetic grin. “Good luck with that.” 

She rolls her eyes. 

Then all of a sudden the door’s opening, and he’s climbing out the car, saying he’ll _“catch you later, okay?”_

This should be the end of it but he stands there, holding the passenger door open with one hand and sort of just staring at her, and for a breathless moment she wonders if he might ask her to come inside. (For moral support, of course!) 

But he doesn’t. Because, as she reminds herself, he has personal things to attend to. 

“Have fun,” he says instead. 

She’s not sure if he even expects an answer to that, so she just smiles as the passenger door shuts. And drives.


	5. five: last chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff invites Annie out for drinks.

Saturday, he’d said. 

He’d pulled her aside after she graduated. Part of her had wanted to protest - because that kind of behaviour, sneaking round the back and into the graduates space, was _so against the rules -_ but she hadn’t said anything. Rather, she’d smiled. Grinned. So wide she felt like her face was being pulled apart. (She’d expected to feel elated after graduation, but really she just felt tired. It’d been a long day.) 

He’d said, _Annie,_ and hugged her. He’d said he was proud. He’d said some kind of well-meaning joke, about he never thought she’d make it, and then quickly clarified that _hey, I’m just kidding around_ as if she couldn’t tell. 

And then he’d stepped closer, and touched her hand, and blissfully ignored her shiver in the ninety degree heat. And he’d asked if she’d like to meet him for drinks. Saturday. 

(Privately, Annie had asked Abed if Jeff had offered him the same thing. He hadn’t.) (Which probably didn’t mean anything, because goodness knows she’s had her heart broken by Jeff more times than she can count, just for inferring meaning from things he’s said or done.)

He was picking her up at 7 - so of course, Annie had gotten ready an hour early. Her hair’s done, she’s double checked that she has everything she needs (car keys, wallet, phone on 80% battery - but only because of the amount of times she’s unlocked it to watch the time) and isn’t sure what else there is to do. Other than wait. 

Before graduating, she’d use these in-between times to sometimes reorganise her textbooks, or look over some flashcards. Little things. Now that she has no reason to do this, her hands fiddle with the hem of her skirt instead, no doubt creating creases that she’s already worked so hard to eliminate. 

She sits primly on the edge of her bed. Reads a page and a half of her book. Catches ten minutes of whatever _Inspector Spacetime_ episode Abed has on, but that ends up being too confusing, and she worries she’ll develop a headache, so she goes back to sitting, and wonders briefly if having a glass of wine might help her to loosen up a little, but quickly scraps that idea because she doesn’t want to be _too_ loose, she wants to be totally in control, and…and, wonders why she’s overthinking this so much. It doesn’t have to be this complicated. It’s drinks with a friend. 

She’s telling herself this even as she opens the text he’s just sent her. For a second, she thinks he’s cancelling; for a half second, she’s relieved. 

But instead, he’s said, _you’re ready, right?_

Well, she _is,_ but she’s not sure whether to be offended by his assumption or not. On the one hand, what if she hadn’t been ready at all? On the other, he clearly knows her well enough to understand that she’s just waiting, now. Restlessly, at that. 

She types back a _yes_ , then frets over whether to put a full stop at the end. Once it’s sent, she hastily types out another message, saying he doesn’t have to stop by yet if he’s not ready, like, no pressure or anything, and a few seconds later laments over the amount of exclamation points she used. 

It’s like she’s nineteen again, overanalysing everything she wants to say to him. Like before sophomore year. That summer seemed to go on forever; she felt like she was permanently waiting on a text back. 

“Jeff’s on his way over,” she tells Abed, for no apparent reason. It’s not like he needs to know. Although, usually when she goes on other dates, she - not that this is a date! - but she tells Abed or Troy, anyway. She’s read too many online dating horror stories not to let at least one of her friends know where she is and who she’s with at all times. But you know, like she said, _this_ isn’t a date. So it’s different. 

“He’s early,” Abed notes, eyes glued to the screen. 

“Yeah, I mean, there wasn’t much point in waiting around, right?” She pivots on her feet, and realises to her horror that she’s been pacing _._ She’s actually _pacing,_ like some kind of crazy person!  Quickly correcting her behaviour, she’s suddenly glad that Abed refuses to take his eyes off the TV. If he’d noticed, it could have led to unnecessary questioning, and she’s sure that would only serve to make her feel even _more_ nervous.

To distract herself from his imminent arrival, she rearranges the contents of her handbag twice, and sinks into the couch, folding herself into a position that looks conceivably natural, and not like someone whose entire being feels coiled and poised with nerves. 

Then the doorbell buzzes, and she springs up, belying the chill attitude she’s been trying to give off. “I’ll get it,” she calls to Abed, who isn’t even on his feet. 

She pauses before the door, shakes herself out, and repeats _loosey-goosey_ a few times in her head, like a mantra, ‘cause hey, it’s worked before. 

And it works now, or at least that’s what she tries to tell herself, even as she throws the door open a little too fast. Jeff is there, hand poised to knock, wearing a bemused expression and charcoal shirt. He smiles at her, and it’s not one of his forced smiles - it’s genuine, she can tell by the little crinkle around his eyes, and she feels too warm, as if she’s overheating from the inside out. 

“Hi,” she manages, barely.

“Hey,” he replies, staring at her for a beat too long. 

“Jeff!” Abed calls, predictably ending the moment, “I have a couple ideas for your ad I should probably run by you.” 

Annie steps to the side with a _what can you do?_ sort of look, and takes a moment to regulate her breathing pattern. 

“Abed, I’ve told you three times already that it’s not a definite, I don’t know if we’re even gonna be able to afford an ad at this rate, not even with your discount…” 

“Yes, but I was brainstorming with Troy the other day, and I think there’s a couple angles we could go from here. Have you considered what genre you’re going for?” 

“Genre?” Jeff repeats, incredulously. 

“I’m gonna grab my bag,” Annie interjects. The _“then we can get out of here”_ is implied, but goes unsaid. 

Jeff shoots her a grateful look, clearly understanding her unspoken message, and goes back to listening faux intently to Abed. 

Annie checks for the last time that she has everything she needs, and studies her reflection in the mirror, searching for any imperfections she might have missed the first seven times she did so. She locks eyes with herself, and tries to put off the inevitable realisation, but still it arrives, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind - the reason she’s so nervous about this whole evening. She loves him. Still. Or maybe, she did once, and now she’s made backwards progress, and she’s still kind of got a crush on him. Either way, she has to accept it - the fact that this isn’t just drinks between friends. It’s drinks, at a nice bar, with a guy she maybe loves, who she dressed up for, who she feels nervous for, who she gets butterflies for. 

It was never about the event itself, it’s the person she’s sharing it with. 

But, you know. There’s not much to do about that other than pull herself together. Besides, it’s not a particularly surprising revelation, so it’s easy to just blink at her reflection a few times, roll her eyes at herself, and get on with it. 

So she walks back out and interrupts Abed’s monologue with a “Ready, Jeff?” and a nod in the direction of the door. 

Jeff gets up from the couch hastily, muttering something about how he’ll email Abed about it tomorrow, and Abed shoots a couple finger guns at him before unpausing the episode, going back to watching as if nothing ever happened. 

“Shall we?” He asks, as if there’s a response to that question other than _yes._

She nods, takes his offered arm, and tries to push down the stubborn optimism uninvitedly filling her heart. 

* * *

They manage to find a small booth near the back that’s far enough away from the entrance that they can hear each other without having to raise their voices too much. Of course, he sits across from her, but the distance, the table between them, is probably good, Annie thinks. It might stop her from imagining things that aren’t there; injecting false meaning into insignificant touches that’ll only leave her confused and disappointed by the end of the night. 

She sips her cosmo delicately, and isn’t even half finished by the time Jeff switches to coke. She wonders why he even invited her here, when he’s not drinking, for one thing, and for another, they’ve barely spoken since sitting down. Oh, there’s been small talk, but it’s mostly just catch up stuff - what she’s been doing since the last time he saw her, how his firm is starting up, that sort of thing. It’s all information that they could’ve shared over the phone, so it just doesn’t make sense that he’d ask her all the way out here only to drink pints of overpriced coke and ask her questions he probably already knows the answer to.

There’s a lull in the not-really-a-conversation conversation, and she takes a drink, watching the other people in the bar. There are a few groups of friends, bunch of couples. She notes the easy way they talk and joke with each other, the touches that just seem natural, nothing to fret over. And looks away, studying the little scratches on the linoleum table. 

“I just,” Jeff starts, a little too loud. Annie looks up, he clears his throat, and starts again. “I just wanted to know what it’d be like. So.” 

He’s not making sense. She wonders if she zoned out while watching the others, if maybe she missed the first part of his sentence. “What?” 

He sighs, but it’s mostly at himself. Like he can’t believe he’s saying this. Annie gets the feeling that he’s been working up to this for most of the night, at least. 

“I wanted to know what it’d be like,” he repeats, “to. You know. Go out. With you. Like, on a date, take you out, whatever.” 

She tries, but nope, still not making any sense. He’s not talking sense. “What?” Her brain boots up, slowly piecing together the meaning behind what he’s just said. “You…you wanted to know what it’d be like to date me?” 

He doesn’t give a real response, and Annie gets a sinking, resigned sort of feeling, like it’s only gonna get worse from here, and curses her mind, her heart, whichever let her hope. 

“But you don’t want to actually date me.” She clarifies, filling in the unspoken gaps. “You only wanted to know what the experience would be like.” 

“I can’t…” he’s speaking again. “I can’t. I don’t know, maybe I, maybe we could’ve, last year or even the year before, but we didn’t, and - and that’s on me,” he adds, probably sensing something in her expression, “it’s my fault, but we didn’t…ever _do anything,_ really, and I had some regrets about that, and I thought maybe you did, too, so.” 

“Why can’t we?” She asks, hating how soft her voice is. “It’s…I’m older now, and we’re both out of Greendale, so there’s no reason…”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m not that person. This?” He gestures around at the bar, “is the best I could do, and it’s not even that great. You deserve more than that, more than I could ever give you.” He shrugs, a small, sad movement. “I’m too…” He trails off, but she thinks she knows what he’s getting at. 

Her mind flashes to a three-am conversation she and Britta had a year ago, when she’d confessed that there was more going on with Jeff than any of the group really knew. She admitted that she’d once told him he was way out of her league, diagnostically speaking, and when Annie asked what that meant, not even Britta could explain it. _“He keeps a lot to himself,”_ she said, seriously. 

It takes her aback. She feels like her processing time has slowed down considerably due to the shock of everything he’s saying. Her mind breaks it down into pieces, simplifies it: Jeff wanted to date her but didn’t want to date her, so he brought her here…to tell her that they could never be together. 

“Then why…” she begins, but doesn’t even know where her question is going. 

“Because I’ve been a jerk to you, and you deserved at least _something_ from me, and this,” he smiles sadly, “is the best I can give.” 

Of course it is. It’s a date, but it’s not a date. He’s not her boyfriend, but he’s occupied that space in her life. But he’d never date her, never let her get close, because it’s outwith his capabilities, apparently. 

She doesn’t even have the capacity to be mad. It’s acceptance - because what else can she do? If this is all he has, all he’s willing to give, then. 

“Well, this is a crappy date,” her voice wobbles, which probably ruins the joke, but Jeff laughs breathlessly anyway, like maybe he’s shocked she’s going along with it after all.

“I know,” he says, “I’m sorry.” 

She takes a long sip from her drink, and makes a few decisions. One, if this is all she can get from him, she’ll take it, no matter how pathetic it might make her feel in the end. Two, as much as she harbours (even more) confusing feelings for him, she does value their friendship and doesn’t want his own strange decisions to take that away. Three, she absolutely cannot tell anyone about this. ever. (Maybe Abed, and by extension Troy, but they don’t count because she can’t really be expected to keep anything from them.) 

“If this is all you can give me,” she says, mulling it over aloud. “Then we might as well make it a good night.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her, but lets her place her hand in his across the table. 

* * *

He buys her two more drinks after her first, but the third she doesn’t finish by the time they leave. She clasps his hand in both of hers and sort of leans against his arm as they walk back to his car, and she isn’t even that drunk, but she feels like she has to prolong the allowance of physical proximity for as long as possible. This - the constant touching - as well as the drinks she asked him to get her give her the false feeling that she’s somewhat in control, as if it’s her decision that they’ll never be this close again.

She manages to keep up this facade even to herself until they separate to get into the car. She feels cold all of a sudden, and stiff. It takes more than the usual amount of physical effort to climb into the passenger seat, and she can’t look at him even as she feels his gaze on the side of her face. 

He gives up trying to make eye contact, and drives. Something about the darkness of the night, the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see him clearly right now even if she wanted to, emboldens her enough to ask the question that’s been preying on her mind since he told her what the evening actually was, since Greendale, since he kissed her outside the cafeteria after the transfer dance. 

“Do you- Do you feel anything for me? At all?” 

There’s a beat. He turns a corner and she hears the slide of the wheel against his palms as he brings it back. “That’s the thing,” he says slowly, like it physically pains him to speak. “If I didn’t feel so much for you, I’d be willing to…” he shakes his head. “That’s why I know we can’t do this. Not right now.” 

The possibility of _later, then_ doesn’t even cross her mind, for once. 

“It wouldn’t work out.” He elaborates. “I’m trying to get the firm started up, I just got my degree, I’m old. You’re getting started in the world. You can’t do this, with me, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you to make dumb mistakes and fuck up relationships.”

Ordinarily she’d tell him that she’d never consider starting anything with him to be a mistake. Right now, however, she digests what he’s saying. It’s pointless trying to argue, she knows. He’s already made up his mind. 

And she’s tired. It’s not even that late, but she feels exhausted, and longs for sleep already. Things always seem brighter in the morning. 

“Do you want me to walk you up?” He asks, when he parks on the street outside her building. It’s courteous, she can give him that, if a little useless. He already knows the answer. 

“No.” She replies, and doesn’t follow it up with an explanation. “But can you just,” it’s stupid to even ask, especially after the weirdness of the night, but it’s the end of their not-a-date date, after all. “Can you just kiss me?” He stares at her. “Please.” She’s not above begging. It’s pathetic, stupid. 

He looks down then up, and in the space of that brief movement manages to make the choice. He leans across the handbrake, bracing a hand on her seat for balance. They lock eyes for a second but she hates what he might see in hers and she closes them even before he moves in and his lips brush hers. She’s never been kissed so softly. Like she might break. His free hand tucks her hair behind her ear, and her heart aches.

It’s stupid. 

She pulls away and opens the door behind her, mumbling a goodbye before scurrying back into the privacy of the building. Clutches the handrail on the stairs and wipes a hand down her face, feeling weary. It’s done, that’s the good part. No more wondering, what-ifs. He’s said everything he needs to, and made it clear nothing will ever happen between them, and it doesn’t matter what she feels because she can’t force him to feel the same way. It’s not his fault she got her hopes up. 

But it’s done now. She’s learned her lesson and it won’t happen again. She’ll move on. She’s twenty two years old and heartbreak can’t last forever. She knows where they’re at and won’t waste her time by hoping for more, not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o man this was angsty
> 
> the next one is lighter i swear lol


	6. one: summer 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Over the years she’s learned that it doesn’t always help to ask Jeff about what’s going on inside his head; rather, it’s best to wait it out until he reveals that information himself. But it’s been a while._
> 
> _He opens his mouth as though to speak, closes it, and looks down. It’s not hard for her to believe he’s being truthful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its been like, 7 months. stuff happened. i always wanted to go back to fic, though, so here this is. more info about what happened at the end, if you want it. thanks for reading

Predictably, Britta isn’t where she said she’d be, and it takes Annie two ignored phone calls and fifteen minutes of wandering around before she finally locates her. The latter is full of apologies and explains that she’d had the idea to go get coffee from the machines on the opposite side of the room, sort of a _“welcome home, roommate!”_ type of thing, but the machine swallowed her five dollars, and she got distracted trying to find an attendant who could rectify the situation. 

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Annie replies, and opens her arms wide, prompting Britta to shift back into action. 

“Shit, I totally forgot!” She goes in for a hug with so much speed that Annie has to take a couple steps back to steady herself. Britta yells, “Welcome back!” a little too close to her ear. 

They talk as they walk, Annie dragging her battered suitcase behind her with some difficulty. Britta fills her in on everything that’s happened (nothing really out of the ordinary; one of her cats went missing for a couple days but now he’s back, Duncan was threatened with a lawsuit, and Britta’s been taking summer classes in an attempt to look like a more well-rounded, employable candidate.) The topic only shifts to their friends when Annie’s slinging her case into Britta’s trunk. 

“Abed’s called a bunch of times.” She said, starting up the car. 

“Yeah, we talked a bit when I was in DC.” Annie replies. Though not as much as he and Britta, due primarily to the time difference being larger than the difference between LA and Greendale. It was hard to find a suitable time in the day when neither of them were working, sleeping, or otherwise unable to pick up the phone. 

“Huh. What else?” Britta turns a corner with alarming speed. “There’s Jeff, but like, I assume there’s not much I could say that he hasn’t already told you.”

Annie’s not sure exactly how to take that remark, so she nods. She can feel Britta’s eyes on her despite the lack of response, and looks out the window in an attempt to alleviate the sensation. It’s not strange to be back home, she finds, because nothing has really changed. Shopping mall, office block, gas station. It’s hard to believe she ever left. 

Britta fiddles with the radio dial and it crackles into life a moment later. It’s the usual Top 40 hits; Annie sings along, and Britta knows a couple well enough to hum quietly, focusing more on the road once they hit the highway. Annie finds herself glad of the silence - her head is still swimming from the airplane journey and she feels all exhausted and heavy, like her brain is extra aware of her limbs. She makes a plan - shower, comfortable clothes, food. She can worry about her bags tomorrow. 

Summer stretches over, empty with possibilities. She had been so focused on the internship that she hadn’t planned anything for when she got back. There’ll be something, she’s sure - despite the small town, she knows far more people here in Greendale than she did back in DC, and it won’t be difficult to fill the time. 

The singer on the radio warbles on, the sun forces her eyes shut, and her mind strays to possibilities. The stories she has. There’s so much to catch up with. 

It’s only half true, what Britta said back in the airport. While she’s grown used to the incessant jibes from that end regarding her relationship to Jeff, it’s hard not to bristle slightly at the implications. Yes, they spoke on the phone - but no more than she and Britta did. Annie can recount maybe a handful of the things he told her, and she’s sure he’d say the same thing himself. She missed him - and she also missed Abed, Troy, Britta, Shirley and the rest of their friends. He might love her well enough - just as he does everyone else. 

Contrary to what Britta might believe, the absence didn’t make a difference. 

She rests her head against the back of the seat and closes her eyes. 

* * *

It doesn’t take very long for her to guess that there’s some kind of welcome-home surprise party waiting for her behind the apartment door. It’s Britta’s doing, she assumes, primarily due to her nervousness, constant checking of her phone, and her sudden need for a detour round the block once she (presumably) receives information that the party-goers aren’t _completely_ ready for Annie yet. 

Still, she plays along, frowning and offering to help when Britta proclaims that she’s lost her keys in her bag, and obediently walking through the door behind her so as not to see any potential surprise. 

And of course, she clasps her hands over her mouth in faux shock when Britta says, “surprise!”, and Chang starts up the music. She doesn’t need to fake the happy tears, though - nor the way she lets out a sigh in spite of herself. Home. Finally.

She manages her way through a blubbered ‘thank you’ to everyone who came - and it is basically just everyone she was expecting; the remnants of the Save Greendale Committee plus the Dean, which she guesses are too few people to really count as a party, but nowadays she tries not to get too caught up in the semantics. Accepts a glass of champagne from Britta, who immediately clinks her own glass against hers. 

That’s when she meets Jeff’s eyes from across the room. He smiles - eyes crinkled up, all warm and inviting. It’s the type of look that years ago, would have been enough to send her heart racing and flush her cheeks. But now. She feels steady, sure, certain. They’re friends - good friends - and while her younger self might have pined for him, something has shifted. Maybe, she thinks wryly, in her old age she’s gotten used to the idea that what will happen, will happen, and if nothing ever happens with Jeff - which she’s learned the hard way is a distinct possibility - he’s a good friend and a good presence, and for her, now at least, that is enough. She smiles back. 

* * *

She’s had a few glasses, enough that her limbs feel loose and her brain isn’t obsessively focusing on the possibility that she’s forgotten something back in DC and she can actually enjoy the party. It’s not late, probably around 7pm, and Frankie has volunteered to order pizza. Annie’s spent the afternoon catching up with everyone, and her whole body feels light, not just because of the alcohol but the company. 

When the door buzzes from downstairs, there is no age-old scramble to decide on the unlucky person who has to retrieve the pizza. Instead, Britta takes one quick look around the room and promptly volunteers to do so herself, accepting the thanks with a wave of her hand. 

“Who would’ve thunk,” Jeff remarks, beside her. 

“I know, right?” She nudges his arm clumsily with her shoulder. “Did she undergo mind-altering brain surgery while I was away, or something?” 

“Oh, we all did. Simultaneous lobotomies, actually. Erasing the lasting effects of Greendale Community College on the brain.” 

“I see. And I wasn’t invited, because?” 

“You were in DC. You got out.” She can tell it’s meant to be a joke, but it falls flat, and she can’t stop herself from turning to look at him. 

“Is everything okay?” It’s not something she would ask usually. Over the years she’s learned that it doesn’t always help to ask Jeff about what’s going on inside his head; rather, it’s best to wait it out until he reveals that information himself. But it’s been a while.

He opens his mouth as though to speak, closes it, and looks down. It’s not hard to believe he’s being truthful. 

“Can we talk in private?” He asks after a moment. 

She nods, and gestures to Troy’s old room, but is interrupted before she even gets her hand on the doorknob. 

“Pizza’s here!” Britta calls, prompting everyone to flock over to the kitchen island. 

“Later?” She asks Jeff, who simply nods. 

“Later.” 

* * *

When people are distracted by the movie on TV (a strange arthouse style flop, suggested by Chang) Jeff touches her hand, and wordlessly they get up and make their way to privacy. 

Annie shuts the door behind her and leans against it, watching as Jeff takes a seat on the bed. He smiles at her easily, and any fears of the worst that she was harbouring evaporate immediately. 

“I’ve been, uh,” he starts, “trying to be more direct. To those close to me.” 

She nods encouragingly, for once not assuming the worst. 

“I’ve missed you. I mean, we all have, obviously, but I’ve. Really missed you.” 

Her heart starts up again. After all these years.

“And I wanted to know if, maybe, you’d like to go out sometime. With me, in case that wasn’t obvious.” 

Suddenly, it’s like her breath leaves her, all at once. Every conversation, every scenario, every time she imagined this moment she never thought it would be so simple. Twelve words is all it takes, of course. A smile starts to creep its way across her face. 

“Annie?” He half-laughs. She’s beaming now. 

“Yes.” Simple question, simple answer. Although he probably knows that, judging by his grin. 

“Great. That’s great.” Happiness seeps through his voice, god, she could kiss him.

“I know.” God, she _should_ kiss him. 

She makes her way over, stands before him, and when he looks up at her, he’s steady, sure, certain. She brushes her lips with his, whispers, “I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long story short! i fell out of love w community, stopped writing, and started university. 2017 was a real tough year for me, but im feeling better now. thank you if you stuck around until the end of this story, or if you read any of my stuff while i was away. (gonna go respond to reviews now!)
> 
> anyways.
> 
> im back bitchez


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